


The Storm Outside

by BookshopLaura



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Magic Revealed, Post Magic Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:39:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookshopLaura/pseuds/BookshopLaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's magic is revealed saving Arthur's life. He runs for his life. This is what follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin sits by the fire, stirring a pot of plain rabbit stew seasoned with a few herbs he's picked up. He's wrapped a blanket round him which he holds together with his free hand. He's watching the stew swirl round and round as the black pot hangs over the small crackling fire. Outside the wind howls as the snow begins to fall. He's trying hard not to think about anything in particular. Like how he's not entirely sure where he is, or where his next meal will come from once this stew is gone. He was lucky to get this rabbit, and the storms only getting worse. He's in a small abandoned stable somewhere in the forests outside Camelot. He doesn't know where to go, or how to get there once he's decided. He has no horse, no cloak, only the jacket he is wearing and this blanket he snatched as he fled. And he feels really guilty about that. 

Guilt is the overwhelming feeling at the moment and he REALLY doesn't want to think about that. About the way Arthur's face hardened and focussed on Merlin as the gold died from his own eyes and the creature that had threatened Camelot had fallen to the ground dead. He doesn't want to think about the way Arthur pulled his sword from his sheath and ran towards Merlin, all righteous fury. Looking glorious and terrible at the same time. Or the way he collapsed part of wall between them so that he'd had time to run away, shouting 'I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm sorry' as he did it, nearly crying. He should have stayed. Should have let Arthur cut his head off, then or by the executioner. He should head back to Camelot, but he has no idea how he got here, just kept running and running. 

His thoughts chase round and round his head like a marble in his head. He eats the rabbit and wraps himself up next to the fire, staring at it deep into the night, still thinking. 

\---

Arthur isn't asleep either. He's pacing his chambers. The fire is lit, not by Merlin. The bed is made. Not by Merlin, far too neat. He hates Merlin. Merlin lied to him. Where is Merlin? He should be here! On his knees begging for Arthur's mercy and forgiveness. Getting his dinner, chatting inanely. He's a monster, a coward, a traitor. He'd run! Run from Arthur! He couldn't even face him! What did he think Arthur was? Did he think Arthur would just cut his head off? His thoughts pause at that. His brow furrows, he stops pacing, his chest still heaving. He'd drawn his sword. Would he have... Merlin was a sorcerer, he would have deserved it! And there are images of Merlin, Arthur's sword through his stomach, his arm clinging to Arthur's and his eye's pleading with Arthur's until they go blank and his body slips from Arthur's sword to lay limp on the ground. 

Arthur is crying with heaving breaths, wiping his tears with his sleeves, first the right then the left. He mentally berates himself for the weakness, stalks over to where his sword lies in it's sheath on the cabinet. He grabs it, throwing the sheath away and attacks the bed post. He lands blow after blow leaving gaping tears in the wood. He steps back, sword lowered, still held with two hands and looks at the post. It's a mess, scars and hacks that would have killed a man ten times over and that just upsets him all over again. He flings his sword across the room where it clatters against a set of antlers on the wall and the both clatter onto the table below. A guard comes running only to be yelled at with what was meant to be "Get out!" but was actually unintelligible. But the meaning was clear. 

Arthur runs his hands through his hair again and again. And starts the pacing again. It doesn't help much but it helps.If it was anyone else he'd be debating this with Merlin. What would Merlin say? That didn't matter. He couldn't trust what Merlin would say. Except that Merlin had actually seemed to have Arthur's best interests at heart. Seemed. 

"I'm sorry, Arthur! I'm sorry! Please! I'm sorry!" Merlin's last words to him run round and round. Was he sorry. He looked sorry. Terrified. He could have flattened Arthur with the wall he'd felled, but he hadn't. Hadn't hurt anyone. Neither had closing the drawbridge as he left. The only person he'd injured had been the seventy foot snake attempting to eat him. Arthur has stopped by the window. It's only now as he watches the snow whirl past him and thinks about how it looks as he feels that the weather outside registers. It's midwinter. Merlin has fled into this. No town is a less than a full days walk on foot, and watchmen reported him entering the woods. He has magic, he can probably look after himself. Arthur puts himself to bed trying to convince himself he believes this to be true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur heads out in search of Merlin

Merlin wakes shivering. He can't feel his toes and the tip of his nose and ears are icy to touch. He is stiff with cold and it takes a while to ease himself up into a sitting position. Once there he pulls the blanket back around him, only leaving his right hand out. He raises his hand and on the third attempt manages to stop shivering enough to concentrate on the dying embers of fire. But it doesn't work. Magic may start a fire, but a fire can't burn with just ashes as fuel. That's all that's left, he thinks. Ashes. A tear runs down his cheek and he buries his head in the scratchy blanket. He needs to go and find some fire wood. But there's no rush. It's not like Arthur needs him back in Camelot. He sits on the cold floor of the hut, hugging his knees and shivering and crying for an hour. Eventually he drags himself up, standing on the second attempt and drags himself out into the calm of the winter day outside. 

\---

Arthur hasn't the stomach for more than a piece of bread before he's ordered Percival and Gwaine to join him in a search for Merlin. They've had a map of the immediate forest area out and have mapped out the most obvious places Merlin would have camped. If he was being logical, which Arthur doubts. Now he's mounted on his horse, the two knights behind, Merlin's horse following beside Gwaine's horse. They've tried one cottage and two old woodman's huts and it's only late morning. But Arthur's got a lot more options to try after this. And he's thinking of these, resolutely of these and not what he will do with Merlin when he finds him. Because, although the storm outside has died, inside he's still a storm of confusion. He can't deny his worry, nor his anger. To say he hasn't considered executing Merlin is a lie. Many images of Merlin dead have filled his mind. Some hangings, some beheadings. Increasingly a stone cold corpse on the floor of some old hut or buried in the roots of some tree. They all pour ice through his veins and he tries to bury them. He's the king. Merlin has broken the law and the law demands a life.

Merlin would have something to say about that law, Arthur thinks. It's such a strange and stupid thought. Of course he would, he's a sorcerer. But even if he wasn't. If Gwaine was the sorcerer Merlin would defend him. Tell, no demand that Arthur look past to the man inside. What if Gwaine is a sorcerer! He turns to consider his knight for a minute. Gwaine glares daggers back. No. Gwaine's too open and honest with his opinions and feelings. Which is why he feels comfortable glaring at Arthur for being angry at Merlin, despite Merlin being the dirty traitor he is. And he is. And a coward. And an idiot. And probably a treacherous, cowardly, stupid corpse by now. Arthur tries to ignore the need to blink and the lump in his throat at the pictures that flood his mind. 

They are approaching the next nearest hut when Arthur sees a hunched figure, covered in a blanket dragging it's way towards the door. 

"Hey! You, stop! In the name of the king" The figure stops, visibly shaking.

"We're looking for someone. His name is Merlin..." the figure shakes it's head.

"We need to search your hut" demands Arthur jumping from his horse and heading over the door. Gwaine and Percival dismount as well and he walks past the figure turning to glance behind him. He stops as his eyes focus on the familiar features. Merlin's nose is red from cold and he's pale and shivering under the blanket which he's wrapped over his head to warm him. He's watching Arthur chest heaving and eyes wide. Not a corpse then. Not yet. 

"Don't you dare think about running again!" growls Arthur bitterly and for a moment Merlin looks injured then he's laughing bitterly.

"Ww..where w...w.would I g..go?" he stammers out, motioning to the forest. 

"Get on the horse, we're taking you back to Camelot"

"... Are you g...going to exec..cute me?" 

"It's what you deserve" says Arthur looking Merlin in the eye. But even as he says it, he knows he doesn't really mean it. But Merlin doesn't see the pause, the hesitation. What monster threatens death to their best friend just to hurt them? But he's a sorcerer and a liar. And the liar is far worse. It dug deeper. But as he watches Merlin fighting the urge to cry, sees the red of the eyes from a night of crying and sees him struggle to mount his horse, he knows he's the liar. He can't execute Merlin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey back to Camelot is not a simple one

Merlin is sat hunched over his horse riding in front of Arthur. His hands are tied, and his head nods with the movement of the horse. Gwaine rides next to him, occasionally throwing a dirty look back at Arthur. Percival rides beside Arthur trying as much as is possible of his size and stature to be inconspicuous. But he does send Merlin pitying looks every now and then when he thinks Arthur isn't paying attention. It's not helping Arthur's temper. These are his knights, they have sworn loyalty to him not Merlin. Clearly Merlin has been plotting against him, undermining him. He wouldn't be at all surprised if Gwaine let Merlin escape and stood to fight to aid Merlin's flight. But Merlin isn't making any move to escape. He's barely moving, only bending lower and lower over horse. Gwaine keeps looking like he wants to do something, but Arthur glares him down. Let Merlin suffer this. Even if he is watching Merlin like a hawk. And forcing himself not to panic every time Merlin stoops lower, or doesn't move for a while, or makes a strange noise. It's getting more difficult. The plan falls apart when Merlin's horse stumbles a little on the rocky and icy terrain they are covering. Merlin practically rolls off of the horse, his right side and back take most of the impact, but it does catch his head a little. He cries out in pain, curling in on himself. Arthur's dismounted in one move and by his side before he's thought much more than 'Merlin!'

"Get away from him!" shouts Gwaine, physically shoving him aside as he leans over Merlin. Anger rises in his chest and he can feel it in his throat as he tries to get closer to Merlin.

"Let me see"

"No, stay back! Last thing he needs is you!" says Gwaine bitterly, then he turns to Merlin. Arthur feels like he's just had an ice bucket poured over his head. Because Merlin's whimpering and Gwaine's the one telling him it's all right and tenderly touching his arm and gently turning him onto his back to inspect the damage. Arthur's mind flicks back to Merlin's first battle wound. It hadn't even been that deep but even then he'd felt the overwhelming need to take care of Merlin. For a moment the thought darts through his head that this is all an elaborate act. But then his eye's settle on Merlin's arm. The way it's laying is completely wrong. He has the sickening certainty that it's broken. But Merlin's a sorcerer.

"Heal it" says Arthur to Merlin, whose covered his face with his other arm. 

"You have magic, heal your arm" it's bitter, but Arthur's been tricked already and he won't be tricked again. 

"You really are the worlds biggest..." begins Gwaine.

"Can't!" cries Merlin, not moving.

"Why not!" asks Arthur angrily.

"Doesn't w...work like th...that. I'm sorr....y Arthur. I'm sorry!" Merlin is almost screaming.

"You happy now, Princess" spits out Gwaine.

"Come on, Merlin. I need to try and sit you up" Gwaine says mildly. He eases Merlin up until he's sitting, clutching his clearly broken arm. He's clenching his teeth and his eyes are screwed shut, breathing deeply. His brow is knitted and his shoulders hunched in defensively. 

"Merlin" he says, although he's not sure why. Merlin looks up at him and for a moment he can't look away from the look of hurt and pleading. Pleading for forgiveness, for help. Arthur stares him down although it's a battle. Half his mind is screaming at him to give in and forgive Merlin, to tell him it'll be alright, hug him. But he can't. He's still so angry it hurts. And just when he thinks he might cry himself Merlin's looking away. His face is one of defeat and hopelessness. He doesn't cry or argue. Just looks down as Gwaine ties a sling behind his neck. It's make do, a torn corner of Gwaine's cloak. 

"We're only an hour's ride from Camelot. We should get him to Gaius" says Arthur to no one in particular. 

"He needs to warm up first." Says Gwaine walking off without Arthur's permission. He doesn't argue. 

\---

They are sat by a small fire that Gwaine has lit, Merlin is sat beside it, staring into it without really seeing anything. Arthur's desperately trying to catch Merlin's eye. This isn't right. Merlin hasn't spoken, hasn't eaten the little food Gwaine put in his hand. He's not crying, not arguing, not showing any emotion except a distant despondency. Arthur wants to call his name again, but Gwaine is glaring at him across the fire as he tries to comfort Merlin. He doesn't have any luck. And Arthur thinks he knows why. Merlin needs Arthur. He's Merlin's best friend. But Merlin thinks Arthur's abandoned him. And Arthur's letting him think that, by not saying anything. He feels like he's turning the wheel on the wrack and he hates that. He's not a cruel person by nature. But Merlin deserves this, for his betrayal. For lying to Arthur. For not trusting Arthur. For not trusting him to accept Merlin as he is.

No that's not right, Merlin's a sorcerer, and as such evil. He would have killed him whenever he found out. So Merlin was right not to tell him. But that makes Arthur the monster and now he's torturing Merlin for knowing that. Tears are threatening and he's having to grit his teeth and concentrate on breathing. He gets up and goes to check the horse over, or at least hide his face from Gwaine and Percival. Mainly Gwaine. Percival is still being quiet. 

"We...we should get ready to leave, it's beginning to get dark" he stammers as he finishes his checks on the saddle.

"It's too dark already, Princess, we need to make camp" states Gwaine. He wants to argue, but Gwaine's right. It's barely half past three but it's midwinter and the night's drawing in already. 

"Fine. But I'm taking first watch"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's on watch and Merlin's not sleeping.

Arthur's watching Merlin who is leaned against a tree, not even attempting to sleep. He's still wearing that distant stare that is scaring Arthur. Except now it's aimed at the sky or every now and then the trees in the firelight. Maybe the fire a couple of times. Merlin's stopped shivering at least. He's been watching him for an hour. The other two are asleep and Arthur's glad of that. He wants to say something. He's not sure he can say he forgives Merlin yet, but he needs to show that he can. 

"You should sleep" he says quietly to Merlin, whose only a few feet from him. 

"'m just enjoying being outside... starlight. Guess this will be the last time I see them." says Merlin sadly. Arthur blinks a few times.

"You're not being executed tomorrow" he says. Merlin smiles sadly at that.

"No. The trial obviously. Arthur, if you've ever thought me a friend, cared for me in any way... please don't burn me. Anything but that please, I couldn't bear it"

It's like a bolt from a crossbow to his chest. An image appears without thought of Merlin tied to a stake, screaming in agony as the tongues of fire lick higher and his skin begins to crackle. And he's looking at Arthur, pleading with his eyes. But the Arthur in his mind can't stand idly by and watch. He feels the overwhelming need to dive in and pull him out, even now, even with a dream version. 

"Merlin..." He mutters but Merlin's not finished.

"And please don't tell my mother until... you know. If you're going to stick my head on a spike, don't let her see it, please! It would..." He doesn't get any further because Arthur has broken. He can't do this, can't even hear about it. The idea of standing before Merlin's mother and telling her he executed her son. Her beautiful, clever, wise son. Who lied. Who lied because he felt he had no other choice. He's leapt up from his seat and knelt next to where Merlin's sitting, grabbing Merlin's face with both hands so that Merlin has no choice but to look at Arthur. 

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" he chants, his hands shaking and his voice uneven. This isn't fair, he's still angry, furious. But he can't lose Merlin, he won't. 

"I'm not executing you you idiot!" 

\---

Merlin just stares at Arthur as he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Merlin's. This last day seemed helpless. His life for the last few years has been all about Arthur and their shared destiny and he'd felt like the floor had given way beneath him and he was falling, forever falling. He'd forced himself to face the truth. Arthur would execute him. He had failed, failed his destiny, failed Arthur. He would die in the knowledge that Arthur hated him, felt betrayed by him. But now Arthur was leaning against him, his right hand has moved to grip the material of Merlin's jacket like a vice. Like he couldn't let go. Like he didn't want to. It's a lifeline to Merlin. A torch in a dark cavern, a cloud after a long hot, dry summer.

"You don't hate me?" he asks quietly, because he can't quite believe it. Arthur shakes his head, which shakes Merlin's because they're still forehead to forehead and Arthur doesn't seem to be moving away.

"You forgive me?" he asks. Now Arthur pulls away, his eyes flaring.

"I'm still bloody angry with you! You lied to me! You're my best friend, how could you?" but it's a different anger. Arthur's all emotion and tears. There's no wall between them, no coldness to keep Merlin out. Arthur's trusting Merlin with the hurt, letting him see how he's made Arthur feel. 

"I'm sorry Arthur, I am, believe me I am" Merlin's crying, he doesn't care how it looks. But it's not fear or upset or despair any more. It's relief and release. It's hope even if he is weeping like a child. Arthur's embracing him now, careful of his right arm, burying his face in the crook of Merlin's neck. Merlin can feel him shaking with his own tears, feel the tears seeping through his jacket. And it makes Merlin sad that Arthur's this upset, but Arthur needs this, needs to know Merlin's here, with him, as he falls apart. Because he couldn't hold himself together any more. Just like Merlin can't. Not now he feels safe, safe to cry. Arthur pulls away a little to brush a messy, wet, even snotty kiss to the side of Merlin's head. It says I love you despite everything.

\---

Gwaine wakes up as the fire burns down. He looks round and stumbles to his feet. He can't see Merlin. Arthur's sat up against the tree where Merlin was sat, fast asleep wrapped in his cloak as far as he can tell in the dim twilight. Gwaine is just stepping forwards, thinking of every threat he can level at Arthur when he spots Merlin's boots poking out from under Arthur's cloak. Looking closer he can see that Arthur's head is leaning on Merlin's crop of black hair. He rolls his eyes and goes to collect firewood to stoke the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might do a really fluffy sequel where they go all shy on each other because they're not sure where they stand.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure whether to do more for this, comments all welcome on characterisation, direction of plot etc. chat away all you like please!


End file.
